


The Art of Being Home

by evitably



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Timeline, Alternate Universe, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evitably/pseuds/evitably
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave visiting his little brother should hardly upset Dirk, yet it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Being Home

**Author's Note:**

> A tumblr fic originally posted [here](http://doughtier.tumblr.com/post/33539290488) to [madragingven's art](http://madragingven.tumblr.com/post/33221586874/its-only-comforting-until-someone-gets-a-lapful) (alpha!Dave/Dirk; NSFW!).

Dave wakes up to noise in the kitchen. He shakes his head a little, blinks the sleep from his eyes, and mutters "Goddamn it, Dirk," as he nuzzles deeper into the throw and the corner of the couch that used to be his bed. 

The sound of ceramics smashing against the floor forces him to reconsider his decision. He leans up on his elbows to peek over the backrest to see what was going on: Dirk, shocked into stillness, standing over the shattered remains of Dave's favorite mug.

... oh. Right. Dave isn't supposed to be here. He's supposed to be in LA, making SBaHJ happen, not in Houston crashing at his old place just because he misses his brother. "That was my favorite mug," he says with a frown.

Dirk presses his lips together. "You scared the fuck out of me." He runs his hand through his hair. "What are you even doing here?" 

"What's it look like?" Dave asks with a shrug that reminds him to stretch, because his back is killing him. "Goddamn," he says appreciatively when his spine pops. Next he rubs at his eyes under his sunglasses, and if he has any say about it, he's never sleeping in them again -- his fingers find what feels like indentations around his eyes. Yeah, he's going to spare himself the embarrassment and just leave the shades on until he can survey the damage. 

"You done?" Dirk asks. He's still in the kitchen area, standing over the ceramic shards. He's crossed his arms over his chest, probably judging Dave for existing by the curl of his mouth. And fuck it, but Dave's missed his little bro. 

"Could use a drink, if I'm being honest," Dave says. "But yeah, think so." 

Dirk scowls. 

Dave gestures with his chin at the broken mug. "Aren't you gonna get rid of that?" 

"Fuck you. It can wait." Dirk says, and if the mess doesn't bother Dirk, then it doesn't bother Dave either; he isn't the neat freak of the house, after all. "Couldn't you let me know you were coming?" 

"Nah." Dave leans back into the corner he's slept in only minutes ago. "Wanted to surprise you. I know just how much you love surprises." He can't see Dirk from this position, but Dirk can't see him, either - which allows Dave to smile without his little bro seeing. Dirk despises surprises. 

"You asshole. Stop smiling." 

"You can't prove it," Dave points out. 

"I don't have to. You're smiling." 

"'course I am. You're pretty cute when you're sulking, you know that?" 

Dirk says, "I'm not sulking." 

"Yeah, right," Dave scoffs. "Like I don't know what makes you tick. You haven't even turned the lights on, dude." He half expects Dirk to turn the lights on as soon as he says it, but he really does know Dirk -- admitting he's slipped will only prove that he has. He softens his voice, keeps it low and soothing so Dirk doesn't spook. "Tough day?" 

Dirk sighs. 

Dave makes sure to keep his eyes away from Dirk's. "That bad?" 

"Yeah," Dirk says awkwardly. 

Back when Dirk was younger, he wouldn't have admitted even that and preferred to distract Dave by talking about something else. Sometimes, he'd go as far as hide from Dave, squirreling into small, tight places that he'd soon outgrow. 

If Dave was a better brother-slash-guardian-slash-parent (he's all of these at once) and better at this entire 'feelings' thing, he would've sat Dirk and helped him work through it. As it were, he'd gone out and bought the most ridiculously cool pair of sunglasses he could find and given them to Dirk and added the corny stupid line of how if people didn't see his eyes, they wouldn't know what he was thinking. Dirk had gotten better after that, but Dave almost never gets to see the kid's eyes anymore. 

"Do you still have that apple cider I left in the freezer last time?" Dave asks, finally allowing himself to glance in Dirk's direction. 

It's the absolute last thing Dirk expects him to say: his eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline, and his frown is pretty damn hardcore. "I think so," he says cautiously and moves to the fridge, careful not to get any of the broken mug under his feet. "Why?" 

Because if Dave pushes and asks about what's eating at Dirk, he'd get a big fat nothing for his trouble. "Go heat some up for us," he says instead, the perfect non-answer that he's cultivated throughout the years. "Told you, I'd kill for a drink." 

Dirk cranes his neck back toward Dave. "I thought you meant you wanted a beer." 

Dave shrugs. "Can't have it if I'm in a sharing mood, can I?" he says. "Tell you what, the moment you're twenty-one, I'm taking you out for a few. I'll clear out my schedule and everything." 

"That almost sounds like a promise," Dirk says. 

And for no reason other than the small upward curl of Dirk's lips, Dave concedes with a smile of his own, "So maybe it is."


End file.
